"Then," said M. Dyckfelt, "there are a many at the Court whose interest it is to keep the King deceived—namely, those nobles whose letters of service I brought to Your Highness—and from what I observed of His Majesty he was so infatuate with his own conceptions of affairs as to give scant hearing to good advice." "That may be," answered M. Fagel. "But will France be so easily beguiled? M. D’Avaux at The Hague itself must suspect." "He doth already," said William, in a kind of flashing shortness; "but he cannot prove his suspicions." "Your Highness," asked M. Fagel, still anxious, "must take an army and a fleet with you——" "You do not think," answered the Stadtholder, "that I would go with a handful of adventurers, like my poor Lord Monmouth?" "Then," urged the Grand Pensionary, "what is to become of the States with all their defences beyond the seas and you absent?" An expression of pain crossed William’s face. "It must be risked," he said, in his hoarse, tired voice. "Do you not suppose I have counted these risks?" he added half fiercely. M. Fagel looked at him straightly. "Will the States permit Your Highness to take these risks?" he asked. "I must hope to God that the States will trust me as they have done before," answered William, with dignity. "Your Highness must lay down new ships, raise new companies, and under what pretence?" "It can be done," said William. "Have not Algerine corsairs shown themselves in the North Sea? There is one excuse." M. Dyckfelt spoke now. "I see other difficulties. I do not think that Your Highness need fear the loyalty of the States, but what of your Romanist allies, the Pope himself?" "The Pope," said William calmly, "is on the verge of war with Louis over the Cologne affair, and as long as I stand against France I am assured of his secret support—and as for England, I have it from a sure hand that His Holiness was so offended by the sending of Lord Castlemaine as envoy that all King James his compliments to his nuncio have had no effect." He could not forbear a smile, for in truth the sending of a man who owed his very title to an infamous wife to the court of the saintly Pontiff was one of those almost incredible blunders it is difficult to believe even of a stupid man. "I have good hopes from that incident," continued the Prince. "The King who made that mistake may make others." "Ah! Highness," said M. Dyckfelt, "the mistakes of King James will not help you so much as your own wisdom." William glanced at the speaker. In the faith and trust of such lay his surest strength. These men, incorruptible, clever, industrious, devoted, and patriotic, such as the two now facing him, were the bulwark of the position he had held fifteen years, the instruments of all his projects. These thoughts so moved in his mind that he was constrained to speak warmly.